


Baby, Can't You See I'm Fallin'?

by LourdesDeath



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Priest is a thirsty bitch, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LourdesDeath/pseuds/LourdesDeath
Summary: “You ain’t on any of the rosters, and I woulda heard about you if you worked for Blackwing on the down-low,” Priest says, smoke puffing out from his lips with every word. “So what are you doing there?”Priest doesn’t seem like the kind of person to care how he got here, and Ken isn’t interested in lying to him.Or, Priest and Ken have a late-night discussion. Clothes come off.





	Baby, Can't You See I'm Fallin'?

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to flightinflame for editing, and for cheering me on. Also for letting me shamelessly rip off her "Blackwing tattooing and branding subjects" thing xD
> 
> Title comes from Toxic by Britney Spears

“So, what’s a man like you doin’ in a place like Blackwing?” 

Ken is startled out of his daydreaming. The smell of pizza grease is still hanging around the room, but everyone else has gone. Friedkin was one of the first to leave, claiming he was tired, and the others followed soon after, trying to keep up the pretense of Friedkin being their leader. 

His attention had been split between the cameras set up around the Cardenas house and going through the files on the former subjects, trying to connect the dots between the disappearances, until the voice spoke. 

“What was that?” he says into the microphone. 

“I wake you up?” Priest responds. 

Ken lets out a breath of a laugh. “Not really.” 

He can see Priest on the screens, watches as he pulls out a slender box from his pocket, removes a cigarette. His face glows for a second as he lights it. 

“You ain’t on any of the rosters, and I woulda heard about you if you worked for Blackwing on the down-low,” Priest says, smoke puffing out from his lips with every word. “So what are you doing there?” 

Priest doesn’t seem like the kind of person to care how he got here, and Ken isn’t interested in lying to him. 

“They thought I was something special, some undiscovered new project.” He touches his jumpsuit where the symbol that proclaims him as Project Alpha has been sewn into the fabric. 

“And where’d they get an idea like that?” 

“I spent over a week with Project Marzanna without being killed.” 

“You spent a week with her and you don’t call her by her name?” 

Ken laughs defensively. “I didn’t know if you’d know who I meant if I called her Bart.” 

“‘Course I’d know. I practically raised her.” 

He’d seen logs of infractions by a Blackwing agent while reading through Bart’s file. Ken begins to feel things slot into place. “You’re the one who kept bringing her outside.” 

Priest nods. “She needed to feel the sun, and it was a better way to test her than bringing her prisoners to kill.” 

From what he’s seen of Priest, Ken isn’t surprised that he got along with Bart. The logs said he’d bring her on missions, let her kill whoever she felt like, and bring her back after treating her to sweets. He can imagine how thrilled Bart would be by that. 

“Why didn’t she kill you?” Priest asks. 

“I don’t think either of us knew.” 

“Must’ve been shocking for the poor girl. Don’t think she’s met a lot of people she didn’t end up killing.” 

Ken shrugs. “She didn’t kill Dirk Gently either.” 

Priest squints into the camera. “She met Icarus?” 

“Yeah. She’d been looking for him, but when she met him, she wasn’t supposed to kill him.” 

Scoffing, Priest takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Riggins would have a heart attack if he knew. Icarus was always his pet. Tried to shelter him, like he wasn’t here to be tested like the others. If it wasn’t for Icarus, Riggins might still be in charge here, but Riggins was more interested in protecting him than getting him and the others back.” 

“Friedkin doesn’t seem to be an improvement,” Ken muses. 

“He ain’t, except for letting you do his job.” Priest sighs, and smoke billows out in front of him. “You and me, Ken… We got the same kinda thoughts. We know what we were put on this earth to do, and we ain’t afraid to do it.” 

“Never said I knew what I’m doing here,” Ken says. 

Priest drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with a turn of his heel. “You know it ain’t nothin’ to do with sunshine and rainbows. If people gotta get hurt, you’ll do the hurtin’.” 

“I don’t really like getting my hands dirty. If people have to get hurt, I’ll let you be the one to do it.” 

Priest sighs, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, Ken, baby, where have you been all my life?” 

“I spent the last two months of my life locked in a taxi. It shouldn’t have been that hard to find me.”

“Friedkin put you there?” 

“Yup.” 

“How that boy got to be in charge here, I’ll never know,” Priest says, shifting a little. Ken watches as he leans against the wall of the Cardenas house, then one of his hands drops to his crotch to cup himself for a moment. “Granted, he is useful for some things.” 

“Like what?”

Priest smirks into the camera. “You’d be surprised how well he sucks cock. You’d think he needed it to live by how he does it.” 

Ken quirks an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he knows which end to suck on.” 

Priest laughs at that, and Ken watches his hand squeeze around his cock. 

“He suck you off yet?” Priest asks. 

“I didn’t know it was an option.” 

He’s certain Priest is trying to show off for him now. He smooths his hand over the bulge in his pants, pushing his cock to one side so Ken can just see its length on the video feed. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Priest looks at him under his eyelashes, seemingly innocent as he grinds against his palm.

It takes Ken’s brain a moment to catch up. Priest is asking if he can jack off for him, if he can  _ perform _ for him, really. He thinks back to the conversation they had before, how Priest said he  _ liked _ Ken. It was more than just Priest being strange, as Ken had assumed at the time. 

It was  _ flirting. _

Maybe it’s the two months Ken’s spent locked in a taxi with a corgi as his only conversation partner, or the week before that spent wondering if he’d be murdered by a holistic assassin, but Ken is turned on like never before. 

“Not at all,” he breathes, shifting down in his chair so he can spread his legs as his own cock twitches with arousal. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason, Ken,” Priest says as he undoes his fly and eases his length from his pants. The bulge Ken saw before hadn’t lied--Priest’s dick is long and thick, its head darker than the hand wrapped around it. Priest groans with the first stroke, rolling his hips. 

Ken watches, enthralled. While other men were always a passing interest of his, women were certainly his preference… But he can’t look away from Priest. 

When was the last time he even saw another person naked? Bart doesn’t count--the bikers kept their underwear on and he’s as attracted to her as he is to Rapunzel. 

He shakes his head. Why think about his last time when there’s a man with his cock out right in front of him--well, on a screen in front of him. 

“So…” he says, then clears his throat when his voice cracks. “How did you… Why did Friedkin…?” 

“He wanted to impress me and it’s a better use for his mouth than him trying to make conversation.” 

Ken can’t disagree with that. Talking to Friedkin is like talking to the world’s dumbest brick wall after it’s had a particularly bad brain injury. 

Priest rubs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precome that glistens in the light. “You should give it a try sometime. Won’t be hard, either, with how devoted he is to you.” He sighs, leaning back and giving Ken an even better view. “Shame, really. You could’ve had more options if today had gone better.”

Ken’s mind is pulled from his thoughts of touching himself. “Oh?” 

“Icarus,” Priest says, groaning. “That boy is… fun.” 

“You slept with Dirk Gently?” 

Priest hums. “I wouldn’t say ‘slept with him’, per se.” 

“You… you raped him.” 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Ken. It won’t do you any good to think I’m anything but a bad man.” 

He should be disgusted, angry,  _ sickened _ by this, but Ken can’t bring himself to be. “Did it… affect his testing at all?” 

Priest grins, his strokes quickening. “That’s more like it.” 

“Well?” 

“You got his file onhand?” 

“Of course.” Ken leans over enough to grab it without having to close his legs. 

“September of… 1999,” Priest tells him, and Ken flips to that page of the records. “There are your effects.”

There’s a definite spike in test scores in that month, initially doubling from previous results. It falls after a few weeks, but the averages remain higher than the previous months. 

“Had to keep it to when Riggins wasn’t around to bitch at me,” Priest explains. 

Ken flips through the rest of the file--the testing results didn’t fall to their initial levels for the rest of the time Blackwing was active. He sets the file down to look at the results of the testing of the last two months, which are digitized. 

Priest groans when Ken’s fingers start clacking on his keyboard. “What are you doing now?” 

“I want to know how these compare to his recent scores.” 

“There’s no comparison. Friedkin didn’t bring me in until after Icarus disappeared, so I couldn’t keep him in line. Now get your mind off work. Bein’ the only one with his dick out is making me self-conscious.” 

Ken doesn’t think  _ anything _ could actually make Priest self-conscious. “How’d you know mine wasn’t out?”

“‘Cause you’re thinking about  _ test scores. _ ” 

“You have something better I could be thinking about?”

Priest hums. “Well, if I was there, I’d show you exactly what you could be thinking about.” 

“And how would you plan to achieve that?” 

A smirk graces Priest’s lips. “Could bend you over one of those tables. Might even be nice and let you be face down so you can keep reading your precious files while I fuck you.” 

Ken quirks an eyebrow. “And if I didn’t let you do that?”

“Oh, you want to watch, baby? Want me to put on a nice show for you? Why don’t I bring Friedkin in, let him spread his legs for me? ‘Least he won’t try and multitask.” 

“Would he like that?” 

“Would it matter? Ain’t nothing wrong with letting me have my fun. Could even get him to blow you, let you see how pretty he chokes on a cock.” 

Ken can just see it--Friedkin kneeling between his legs, red faced and gagging around him, Priest holding him there, stopping him from attempting an escape. 

A moan leaves his lips without him meaning it to. 

“I know how to treat you right, don’t I?” Priest breathes. 

Laughing as he undoes the buttons over his crotch, Ken shakes his head. “I don’t know how you talked me into this.” 

“Stop thinkin’ about it, baby,” Priest replies. “Just think about how good I could make you feel.” 

Ken’s already hard when he pulls himself out, and he can feel a damp spot cooling against his hip from where his dick was leaking precome into the fabric. 

He imagines it’s Priest’s hand stroking him, Priest’s mouth on his cock. As enjoyable as it would be to make Friedkin suck him off, the thought of face-fucking Priest has him thrusting into his hand. 

“You touchin’ yourself yet, baby?” Priest asks, smirking. 

Ken groans in response. 

“Feels good, don't it?” Priest's voice is smug as he rolls his hips. “Ain't fair, though, that you can see me but I can't see you.”

“I'd rather watch than put on a show.”

“Mmm, but then I could see what I’m doin’ to you. See how much you like it.” He pauses, his hand wrapped around his erection, his fingers giving it a squeeze. “Let you tell me what you want me to do. Would take you doin’ it over that idiot.” 

Ken thinks about Friedkin’s insistence that he’s in charge. “I’m not officially--” he begins, but Priest cuts him off. 

“You’ve gotten this far. You play your cards right and you could be…  _ officially _ .” 

The universe has gotten him this far, has clearly been leading him towards something. Maybe this is it, maybe  _ this  _ is his destiny. 

He files the thought away for later, for a time when he isn’t getting a cam show from a murderer. 

“You’d follow my orders?” he asks. 

Priest grins. “‘Course I would. Like I said, we got the same thoughts.”

“You didn’t follow Friedkin’s orders,” Ken points out. 

Scoffing, Priest goes back to stroking himself. “That’s ‘cause he’s soft. Didn’t wanna let me kill Incubus 4 so we could catch the Brotzman girl.” Glancing at the camera, Priest’s lips twist into an ugly smile. “I know you ain’t a softie, ain’t gonna let little things like protocol or ethics get in your way… Bet you ain’t gonna let Friedkin get in your way either, when you take over.” 

Ken would tell Priest not to talk about some kind of coup when they’re likely being recorded, but he knows Friedkin is too trusting, knows the footage won’t be reviewed--and if it is, it’ll be too late. 

“I won’t let you get in my way either.” 

Priest bears his teeth in a way that reminds Ken of Bart. “Oh, I’d never get in your way, baby. Would put you on a throne in a minute, sit at your feet like a good little attack dog.” 

“Is that all you plan on doing for me? Attacking?” 

Ken smiles when the man groans, leaning back into the wall of the house. “Fuck  _ me, _ Ken. If I knew you’d be so dirty-minded I woulda had someone else keep an eye on the house.” 

Precome trickles from Priest’s cock as he touches himself, showing up as sparkles of light on the footage that leave a dark spot between his feet. His movements have speeded up, his hips never stilling as he thrusts into his hand. 

“Fuck,” he says again. “You close, baby? I’m…” Priest pants for a minute. “I wanna come. Tell me when.” 

Ken rubs his thumb over the head of his cock and watches as Priest’s movements become increasingly erratic. He isn’t as close as Priest, but a thought strikes, sending a blaze of arousal through him. 

“Stop,” Ken says, and Priest’s body stills in an instant. He looks up at the camera, his eyes wide and desperate.

The man looks frozen in time, like Ken has paused the video feed. 

“You… you want me to wait?” Priest’s voice is quiet, breathless. 

“No, I want you to stop. Put your hands up.” 

The shock vanishes, a dark rage replacing it on the man’s features. “What?” 

“You said you would follow my orders,” Ken tells him. “Prove it.” 

Priest’s cock bobs in the air as the man raises his hands, the smile returning. “Oh.” He spreads his arms like he’s surrendering. “For a second there I thought you were gonna try and arrest me, not that it’d work if you did.” 

“I know. I’ve already read your file.” 

He watches as the man’s hips give a single, aborted thrust. His dick bounces, nearly hitting his stomach, and he gasps quietly. Priest clenches his fists, his abdominal muscles tensing. 

“Find anything… interesting in there?” 

Ken hums, clicking over to it, and scrolls through Priest’s history as a Blackwing agent, his personal information, his test results, until he reaches the photographic records. Intermixed with pictures of his testing (including some of Priest unconscious on an operating table) are photos of him naked. Every scar, every mark on his body is visible, including a tattoo on his chest and a matching brand on his shoulder blade. 

In one picture, Priest is covered in blood: his skin stained, his hair matted. A deep cut runs from his left shoulder to his navel, bodies scattered behind him. Something that Ken suspects is a scalpel is clutched in one hand, and the photograph has captured him stepping over a corpse. 

He wonders who had the presence of mind to record the moment, and whether they managed to survive. 

Making a mental note to find the incident report, he glances at the video feed of Priest and finds himself comparing the present to the picture. 

Priest’s cock is harder now, but it’s clear he was aroused when the photo was taken as well, the grin on his face only making his pleasure more noticable. 

“Had so much fun back then,” Priest breathes. “Gonna have lots of fun with you too, if you let me.” 

“But you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Ken holds himself tighter. 

Priest is gazing into the camera, waiting. There’s a light in his eyes that Ken thinks might be hope. 

“You don’t want me to  _ let  _ you do anything. You want to be told, to obey the orders I give you.” 

Priest’s lips broaden into a smile, and it’s so like the one in the picture that Ken could swear it’s an image of the same moment. “Oh, baby. You already know me so well.” He clenches his fists again and rolls his hips like he’s trying to get some friction on his cock. “Ain’t fair, really. You knowin’ so much about me and me not even gettin’ to see you. Coulda had my mouth on you by now if I was there. Could even drag Friedkin in, see who gives better head.” 

“I have a feeling I already know that answer.” 

Priest laughs. “Then it’ll just be me, baby. I won’t even interrupt your working, can just sit under your desk and make you feel good, see how much of your dick fits in my mouth. You wanna find out baby? Wanna do some testing on me?” 

Ken moans in response. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the man purrs. He lowers his hands slowly, like he’s making it clear that he isn’t dangerous, but his grin belies any harmlessness in his actions. 

He slips the vest off his shoulders, draping it over the porch railing before he begins to undo the buttons on his shirt. 

“Are you… stripping?” Ken asks. 

“Just showin’ you the goods, but I can dance for you if you’d like.” He thrusts his hips a few times. 

Ken finds himself laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. It’s no surprise that Bart is as strange as she is, if Priest is the one who raised her. 

“I don’t think dancing is really necessary,” he says. 

Priest shrugs and opens the shirt. He’s more muscular now than in the pictures from before the fall of the original program. Many of his scars have healed and been replaced by new ones, but the tattoo on his chest looks the same. 

Once the shirt is draped over the railing, Priest kicks off his boots so he can pull off his pants. Ken is not at all surprised to see that Priest went commando. 

Lines of scratches trail down Priest's muscular thighs, curving down from his hips. Ken wonders if Friedkin left them there.

“Like what you see?” Priest asks.

They're far beyond the point of Ken trying to hide his interest. “Hell, yes.”

Priest visibly preens at that, a hand drifting towards his cock before he realizes and rests it one his hip. 

“Ain't only skilled with my mouth, you know. Don't mind a little face down, ass up.”

He turns around and reaches backwards to spread his ass cheeks, giving Ken a perfect view of his hole. One hand disappears behind him before returning, two fingers glistening with saliva. He presses one into himself and moans, arching his back.

Ken times the movements of his hand with each thrust of Priest’s fingers, imagining himself pressing into the tight heat of the man’s body. 

“Damn it,” Priest groans. “Wish it was you fillin’ me up, baby.” He spreads his fingers, stretching himself open. 

“Fuck.” Ken can almost feel the man’s body tight around him, their bodies slamming together as he holds Priest beneath him. If Priest weren’t several hours away, he’d order him to come back to Blackwing. A part of him envies Icarus and Incubus for whatever they used to get out. 

Priest turns a little, looking over his shoulder at the camera. His eyes are half-lidded with pleasure as his mouth falls open with a gasp. Precome trickles from his cock as he fucks himself, but his free hand is supporting himself against the building. 

“You wanna touch your cock?” Ken asks. 

A breathless laugh rumbles from Priest’s chest. “Do  _ you  _ want me to touch my cock?” His fingers move a little deeper. “‘Cause all I want is to do exactly what you tell me, baby.” 

Ken feels his climax nearing with Priest’s words. 

“Good boy.” 

A sound leaves Priest’s lips like he’s just hit his prostate, but something tells him it has nothing to do with his fingers and everything to do with Ken’s words. 

“You better be ready when we meet in person,” Priest says, shaking his head. “‘Cause I don’t think I could stand being in the same room as you if you don’t get your cock in me.” 

“Friedkin might not appreciate that.” 

“ _ Fuck _ Friedkin. Want you inside me, baby. Want you fuckin’ me ‘til I can’t walk.” He pauses so he can slip his fingers from his hole. Ken watches it flutter, gaping with nothing to fill it, until Priest’s fingers return, a third finger opening him up. 

Ken’s own movements quicken, the pleasure too great for him to concentrate on staying quiet. His breathing is loud in his ears. 

Priest grins and pulls his fingers from his ass, holding himself open again. “Come on, baby. Come on me. Want you in me.” His hole is looser now, showing the pinkness inside him. 

Ken thinks about the tight, wet heat of Priest’s ass clutching his dick as he fucks the man senseless, hears Priest begging him for more, and feels his orgasm crash through him. His cock pulses in his hand, streams of come spurting out from him like some kind of celebration. He moans, thrusting into his hand, and listens to Priest encouraging him through the speakers. 

His cock gives a final pulse of come, and Ken collapses back into his chair, panting. He looks up at the video feed.

Priest has turned around, and is smiling into the cameras like he can see Ken, his cock hard and dripping but still untouched, his hands clenched at his sides. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks, his hips thrusting, like his cock is searching for a touch that isn’t there. 

Ken laughs. “Yes, I did.” 

He watches the rhythmic movements of Priest’s body, the way his thighs tense, the sweat that’s gathered on his abdomen. 

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ken says, his voice lower than before. 

Priest quirks an eyebrow. “A choice?” 

“You’ll be allowed to come, but there will be a price later.”

“Oh, baby. How could I say no?” He smirks at the camera. “What’s the catch?” 

Ken isn’t surprised that Priest knows there will be a catch. “No using your hands to touch your dick.” 

“You spoil me,” Priest says. He seems to consider for a moment before stepping forward and pressing into the clothes that are draped over the porch railing. He moans quietly, grinding against them as he clutches the faded wood with one hand and reaches behind himself with the other. 

Ken can spot the exact moment that Priest’s fingers press into his body: his head falls forward, he rolls his hips into the fabric, his back arches into the pleasure. 

“Feel good?” Ken asks. 

“Feels good to do what you tell me, baby,” Priest replies. His breathing is becoming increasingly erratic, as are his movements. The fabric is shiny beneath the head of his cock from the precome leaking into it, his fingers clenched around it tremor slightly. 

He thinks Priest is about to come when the man suddenly halts, panting as he stares into the camera. His cock looks like it’s drooling precome, and his arm is motionless behind him--another view of the man shows his fingers are still in his asshole, but aren’t moving either. 

Priest looks like he’s waiting for something, and it takes Ken’s mind a long moment to figure out what. 

“Come. Now,” he commands, and Priest’s body convulses with his words as his hips give a final thrust, his cock erupting with come. It spurts onto the fabric, leaving white bands on the dark leather. 

Priest’s mouth is open in a silent scream, his fingers fucking into his body, his hips jerking forward a few more times as his orgasm runs its course. 

He supports himself against the railing, a noise like a whimper leaving his lips as he pulls his fingers out. 

“Good boy,” Ken says again, and Priest smirks at him. 

“Don’t be teasin’. I ain’t got another in me for a while.” He stretches his arms above his head, his muscles almost glistening with sweat, and groans. 

“You might want to find a change of clothes before the next shift arrives,” Ken suggests. 

Priest chuckles. “Ain’t my clothes anyway.” He looks at the cameras again, his smile falling. “I meant what I said before. You play your cards right, Friedkin won’t have a chance against you. The fact you’re even able to talk to me tells me you’re already halfway there.” 

“I might need a man I can trust,” he replies. 

“You already got one of those.” 

Ken leans back in his chair. It will take a little doing, but Friedkin is too trusting, too willing to expect goodness from others. 

He glances at the other monitors. “Another team will be arriving in forty-five minutes. They’ll relieve you and start on investigating the house.” 

Priest has already picked the clothing up from the railing and is walking to his SUV. He tosses them into a plastic bin and seals it before grabbing another and pulling out a change of clothes. 

“And Mr. Priest,” Ken says, and the man pauses, looking back into the camera. 

Ken takes a breath, a smile gracing his own lips. 

“When you return to base, I want you to report directly to me.” 

Priest grins. “Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr!](lourdesdeath.tumblr.com)


End file.
